Elder Scrolls Drabbles
by Feran-Sensei
Summary: A collection of Elder Scrolls stories from Skyrim and Oblivion. Disclaimer: All things Elder Scrolls goes to Bethesda. Plus; A side note: Some stories will contain slight slash or male/male. I hope that this does not discourage any of you to skip by, as not all of them do. Please enjoy
1. Mission: Remove Helmet

Posted directly from Wattpad so the format is not the best 3 plz comment!

A Teldryn/OC dragonborn fic  
So this one's kind of short but I promise I'll write more! :p  
WARNING: This is m/m not intense but if it sickens you like it does my brothers then don't read. But stay around and I'll make it up to you.  
Words: ~854

His heart beat sounded throughout his body vigorously, pumping his life blood to each limb as in attempt to stay his excitement. His legs were bent, his bottom almost touching the ground, in a squat position as the dragonborn silently approached his target.  
Quickly flicking his wrist, a muffle spell encased his body, silencing the clinking of his steel boots as he pulled out his dagger. The usual metallic sound of metal on metal from the dagger's scabbard was shrouded by the power of the spell, allowing the dragonborn to approach silently.  
His eyes were set on the table. One step after another the gap was closed. Readying himself, Saldus lifted his dagger, aiming directly over the target, and in one swift movement, he brought the dagger down.  
"A perfect slice!" Saldus stood up out of his crouch and brushed off his chef apron, staring at the perfectly even cut sweetroll before him. Picking up one portion of the sticky sweet piece of goodness, the altmer handed it to the man sitting across the table.  
Teldryn Sero sat emotionless with his arms crossed over his chest. The two semi-transparent white orbs from his chitin helmet stared at the piece of pastry being pushed at him as if it were something poisonous, but of course, Saldus couldn't be sure of that. The man never took that scary looking helmet off no matter what, so his emotions were usually determined from his body language, but that too was just like the helmet. Unreadable. It made Saldus curious as to why he wore the helmet. Is he severely injured and feels he has to cover his face? A battle scar maybe? Or did Teldryn just think himself hideous?  
Lost in his thoughts, Saldus had not noticed that Teldryn had taken the pastry and realized that he still had his hand reached out toward the mercenary.  
"What? Why are you staring at me like that? Did ya catch somthin'?" Teldryn's thick morrowind accent snapped Saldus out of his daze. Quickly he snatched his hand back, causing his cheeks and the tips of his ears to burn bright red.  
"N-no I'm fine, Teldryn. Sorry." Saldus looked down at his hands in his lap, rubbing at the hem of his apron. He could feel the intense gaze of his follower burn on his skin, rising his already high temperature.  
"You sure you haven't caught somthin'? You're all flustered and you're red all over." Saldus looked up at Teldryn surprised. He wasn't blushing that hard was he?  
 _Damn,_ Saldus thought, _how long can I keep doing this?_  
It had been a while now, but over time, the dragonborn had slowly and hopelessly fallen for the dunmer. Saldus knew that his crush was a bit childish and he knew that it was wrong and socially unacceptable, but no matter how hard he tried, his feeling just would not change. It was quite hard hiding his feelings from Teldryn, seeing as the dunmer saw through all of Saldus's facades. But even if he executed his false smiles perfectly, his heart always felt like it was being squeezed, his body burned, and he felt breathless, so eventually, he always slipped up around the other elf.  
"No, Teldryn. I'm fine." Saldus choked out.  
"If you say so, boss." And with that, Teldryn lifted his hands to his face and pulled off the mysterious looking helmet, a smile gracing his lips. Saldus's was dazed. All of those silly things that he had thought to be the reason for him wearing the helmet were wrong. Teldryn did not have a horrible injury nor a battle scar. And he most certainly was _not_ , in any way, hideous.  
"T-teldryn..." Saldus breathed.  
"Yeah, I know." Teldryn lifted himself out of his chair and reached across the table to take hold of Saldus's tunic. Pulling him closer and closing the distance between him, Teldryn captured the altmer's lips with his own. Saldus's heart beat rapidly in his chest, feeling a bit insecure as the dunmer pulled him even farther onto the table until he was sitting a top the wood on his haunches. Saldus felt Teldryn's gloved hand wipe away his white-blonde hair and tuck it behind his elven ear. A bit embarrassed, Saldus grabbed the bottom of his own shirt tightly, feeling his entire body heat up like fire.  
Wrapped up in their half assed love making, neither one of them heard the front door click open.  
"Ummmm...my Thane?" Saldus pushed Teldryn away and looked back and forth between Lydia and Teldryn.  
"T-this is uhh...not what it looks like?..." He mumbled as he looked down at the ground, his face, if possible, turning a deeper shade of red.  
"Um, yeah...my thane." Lydia said and walked away to retire to her quarters. Saldus watched her go, staring at the empty space where she had been, only removing his eyes when Teldryn began to laugh wholeheartedly beneath him. It was then that Saldus realized that he was straddling Teldryn's hips, and then began laughing himself.  
"Oh by Azura what a night this has been."


	2. Memories of my Brotherhood

Uploaded directly from Wattpad srry for any inconveniences!

Words:~1922  
Rain. I've always loved the rain. With its thousands and thousands of droplets falling like tears, wetting everything, and making the world seem as if it is weeping.  
Now that I begin to remember, it was raining _then_.  
Heavily. As if the Nightmother herself were weeping sweet tears of joy for the coming of her child. Or perhaps they were not tears of joy, but rather tears of anger. Rage borne from the betrayal of one's own prodigy.  
 _Calm yourself, Lucien_. I smile feeling the presence of my dread father Sithis invade my mind as I float aimlessly in this black void of darkness. I should  
be in _the_ Void.  
I should be hearing the sweet sounds of nothingness, seeing the flowers that bloom grey and crimson, feeling the wind that is never there kiss my pale skin-but no. There is no place of resting like the Void for me. My soul is damned. Trapped onto the mortal plane, bound by shackles made from forgotten memories. It's quite pathetic really.  
 _I can feel your restlessness. You are uneasy. What is it my child?_  
I close my eyes and try to sort out the dark blur of my memories. Ever since my death, my thoughts have not been my own, but rather a part of this interminable darkness. Only flashing images are left of the mind that I use to control.

"Traitor! How dare you defy the will of the Nightmother?! The will of Sithis?!" The banging on the door, the pounding of the rain in sync with my heart, the harsh words from my assailants-there were no other  
sounds that I could remember.  
I believe that, for the first time since I was a child, I was genuinely terrified. I was no longer the cold, calculated killer that I had grown to become, but a young boy once again.  
Then the banging stopped and all that was left was the rain. And my beating heart, my ragged breathing. And silence. It drown out all other sounds. That maddening silence that had been my ally for most of my twenty eight years, had now turned on me and was out for a mistaken  
revenge.  
"Lucien," I heard the voice of Mathieu, one of my fellow brothers in the black hand, but something was off. He sounded wounded, angry, desperate, insane, "Lucien, love, open this door." And sickeningly calm and collected all at once. It sent shivers down my spine.  
"Lucien. _Open this door._ "

The silent laugh of the dread father echoes throughout the darkness, filling my mind and body with a sense of calm.  
 _So that is what's troubling you, Lucien?_  
"No," My body, as if on its own, tensed.  
 _The fact that you died by the hands of your own family?_  
"No," My fists clenched, my jaw locked.  
 _That you could not save yourself?_  
"No," My eyes shut tightly.  
 _That you failed._  
 _That you could not spare your sanctuary._  
 _You can not have her._  
"..." I can't speak. I want to scream. To curse Sithis and his beloved bride. To release all of the pain and suffering built up inside. The pain of truly knowing loss, for the first time. Of myself. Of the one's I called family-Vicente, Ocheeva-and _her_.  
 _Don't waste your time, child. You're dead. She's not. A complicated relationship, if I've ever seen one._  
I open my eyes to stare off into the darkness. There is nothing for me here. Nor there on the mortal plane. I shall spend eternity locked in oblivion, but I feel myself slipping. How much time do I have left before my soul dissapears forever?  
"How long has it been?" I whispered, starting to feel his presence slowly fade.  
 _Two hundred years, Lucien. Give up. She's long forgotten you. Besides,_  
With every syllable he speaks I feel myself slipping even further away. Down into darkness.  
 _You're mine now._

Splinters of wet wood flew through the room as the door to Applewatch was broken from its hinges. I watched as my three hunters approached slowly as if taunting the prey that they had backed into a corner. As they taunted me.  
Arquen, Banus, Mathieu. They came forward, drawing their weapons in perfect sync. Bellamont was their leader. He had a fierce hunger in his eyes similar to Vicente when he had thirst for blood, but different. A thirst not for blood but bloodshed. A thirst for taking life. _My_ life.  
Fear ran through me like water in a river. My knees grew weak and I dropped to the ground.  
"Mathieu. A-arquen. Banus," I looked at each of them, my voice shaking from the emotion that was making my lips quiver.  
"I am not the-"  
" _Shut. Up._ " it was Mathieu who had cut me off. My face dropped to the floor, and I began to feel the rain. The salty drops of water that rolled down my cheeks rapidly and falling to the floor. I did not cry out as I sat there listening to the rain beat against the house and the water pats of my tears hitting the floor. And my face did not change. I kept my stone cold expression as it seemed that I had no other.  
"So you finally show emotion?" Mathieu scoffed. Laughing at my pathetic state that I too found quite ridiculous.  
"But it is only for yourself. What an arrogant bastard you are." I felt the cold wet leather of his glove dig into my scalp as he gripped my hair and forcefully pulled me up to look in his eyes. Still, despite the slight pain, I did not cry out. I would not give him the pleasure.  
"Look at me you damn traitor!" The bite of his dagger bit into the sensitive flesh of my throat, drawing blood and immobilizing my breathing.  
"You and all of your kind will pay for what you have done. You don't deserve any last words."  
Then all I could do was feel as the dagger was removed from my throat and planted deeply in my abdomen. The cold steel ripped through flesh, sinew, and muscle, but still I did not cry out.  
"You and your ilk are _nothing_!" A sharp kick to my side and I felt my ribs crack and break, digging harshly into the inside of my chest.  
The fronts of my robes were slit, the cloth falling to the floor, clinging to my skin where the dagger held it in place. I was left in nothing but my small clothes, now vulnerable to the frigid chill of the room, causing me to shiver and intensify the pain. But still, I refused to cry out.  
"Once I'm done with you, I'll kill that slut of your's! Maybe I'll have a round of her before slitting her throat!"  
"Don't you dare touch her!" I tried not to be broken by him, but when it came to her, something inside of me shifted.  
"Or what, Lucien, my _love_? What will you do when you're dead?"  
Nothing. I had nothing to say. I could think of nothing to give to this pathetic piece of trash.  
"That is what I thought. Now, perhaps I should start by cutting off your lips? That way you cannot anoy me with your iddiot replies and pleas of mercy!" I tried to push away from him, but when I did, my legs were broken. When I tried to grab my sword, my arms, too, were shattered. And all the while I did not cry out, even as the cold steel dagger was ripped from my stomach and began to saw off the skin of my face.  
"Save some for us, brother!" Then all at once, every part of me was peeled away, piece by piece.

I gasp as I suddenly jerk upright into a sitting position. I look down at my nude torso, the only part not obscured by a dark black water like liquid. I look up and around, squinting up at the sky that burned my eyes, even though it was dark as if it were about to storm. I did not recognize my surroundings but unlike my usual self who would have stopped immediately to find out some kind of information, I just stared up at the sky, sitting naked in this pond as dark as the void, and I felt as the first droplets of rain fell onto my face.  
I laughed. A genuine happy laugh that I have not had the pleasure of having in a very long time. My dark hair clinged to my pale skin as the rain came down heavier and heavier. But I did not care.  
Then there was an opening of a door. I jerked my head to the side to see carvings like those that I was very familiar with. It was a black door. A welcome sight in my unfamiliar surroundings. And who came out, was a woman in a dark red and black suit. And once I saw her, my heart felt light and my worries were blown away by the wind.  
"Shadowmere! By Sithis you damn horse! Get over here out of the rain!" Shadowmere? As soon as I heard that stubborn horses name, I jumped out of the water, a little clumsily from not being used to walking, and made my way closer to the woman.  
"She likes the rain." I said, standing far enough so that I could just make out her face. She whipped around to look at me, and almost immediately, her face turned red.  
"What the hell?! Don't you know how to put on a pair of pants!?" I looked down at my pitiful self and laughed, just remembering that I was clothes-less. The woman had turned her head but I could still tell that she was embarrassed.  
"Sorry." Was all I could manage to say before the woman sprinted back inside and came back out with a cloak.  
"Here!" She yelled and threw it at me. The dry cloth almost instantly got soaked from the rain, but at least it covered me.  
"Usually I would have killed you by now, you strange man, but you said something that peaked my interest. How did you know that Shadowmere likes the rain?" The black demonic horse stared me down intensely. I could tell she was waiting for me to act first, as Shadowmere would have never forgotten me.  
"She is my horse after all." Leaning down I picked up a nightshade and smiled. Twirling it between my fingers, I sidewaysed glanced at the woman and could tell that she was not happy.  
"Come, Shadow. I know you hate me for leaving, you stubborn horse, but I will make it up later." And with that she galloped toward me and snatched up the small flower.  
"Lucien Lachance." I stated without looking at the woman. I honestly don't know if I expected an answer, but was surprised when I heard her mummble: Astrid.  
With one last pat, I left Shadowmere's side and approached the black door. I placed my hand on it's cool surface and felt the vibrating boom of a heartbeat echo throughout my being.  
"What are you doing, you twat? Don't think you can come in here, flaunting your goods so I'll give you a cloak, then take my horse, and automatically assume you're part of the brotherhood!"  
 _What is the colour of night?_  
"Hey I'm talking to-wait, that's not what it usually says..."  
"Sanguine, my brother."  
 _Welcome home._

 _Lucien._


	3. Strictest of Confidences

This one has been sitting in my phone data for an eternity. No, actually it was just a week or so, but that's practically the same. The very first sentence was actually the 'I wish live dragon capture alive fascinating' quote of Neloth's but I don't know what happened to that idea. Half way I change the whole thing... I want to thank anyone who has read thus far! *from Wattpad gomenasai*

Words: 1082

The multi roomed single chamber of Tel Mithryn hummed with its usual vibration of magic. The air was filled with a thick sickly sweet aroma that had a pleasant fragrance, but it was one that was so sweet that it was, indeed, not sweet at all. The culprit being the Telvanni wizard currently occupied by handing ingredients, at random, to the altmer dragon born, Saldus Feran, who was being forced to do Neloth's dirty work. He never had a choice in which activities Neloth wanted him to partake in it would seem, as he seriously did not want to be testing his already perfect alchemy skills.  
It had been about four hours since Saldus had come bearing a question, only it had been quickly dismissed and he had been put to work. Apparently he should have been honoured, working for a high ranking member of house Telvanni.  
 _You are my inferior, so it is your job to complete these menial tasks! What, you think I would actually do them myself?_  
Saldus scoffed, but continued in his _duties_ like the loyal little underling that he was. That didn't mean he had to like it.  
"Wipe that annoyed look off of your face! It's not like I'm making you do anything you don't want to do." _Oh really? Because I love bending to your every will? Yeah just having the time of my life._ Saldus rolled his eyes and reached out for the nirnroot, adding it to the sticky powder like substance, and grinding away. It was only when he needed to add the mixture to the boiling water did he stop. All the while, he zoned out the other elf's useless conversation. It it weren't for the constant grab for plants, he would have forgotten Neloth was even there.  
"Hello? Saldus, are you listening?" The Dunmer snapped his fingers at the taller mer, frowning when Saldus didn't so much as take his eyes off of the mortar and pestle.  
"No, not really." He responded, absentmindedly.  
"Well, I said that I need you to observe a Briarheart for me. You know? Big, brutish, dirty forsworn? Gaping hole in the chest? No? Doesn't ring a bell?" Neloth frowned at Saldus when he realized that he had heard everything that he had said, but was just simply ignoring him.  
"All right, I guess that means yes, so off you go!"  
"H-hey! What are you do-ahhh!" It was by the time that he was safely on the ground did Saldus realize he had been pushed. Down the giant mushroom.  
"Well, your lucky that's magic, or you'd be dead! Then who would have gone all the way back to Skyrim for me?" Neloth laughed, a cruel evil laugh as it seemed to Saldus, from the top of the long chasm.  
"But you're the one who pushed me..." He mumbled before picking himself up and brushing off his doe skin leggings and linen shirt. Oh but was he just sick of that man, but there was just something about him that always brought Saldus back. It had to be the certain capable feeling that emitted from the man, despite the fact that he really did seem incapable of quite literally everything.

"Now what am I even looking for?" Saldus gently, albeit a bit disgusted, poked at the sensitive tissue around the hole in the recently living forsworn's chest.  
"Well," Saldus said, as he reached his hand into the man.  
"Oh by the nine this is horrid..." With a grimace, he squeezed his hand tightly around the large, bloody briar seed and pulled harshly. With a sickening ripping sound, the seed came loose. Saldus gagged as he shoved the seed into his bag and, a little too quickly, wiped his hands on the cloth of the dead man's clothes. Saldus looked down at his hands, almost perfectly clean now, and frowned.  
"By Azura, I'm going to be sick." The germaphobic elf then quickly stripped out of his dirty shirt,grabbed his bag, and ran to the nearest lake without any second thoughts. Without time to rid himself of his trousers, Saldus submerged himself into the clear blue liquid and scrubbed vigorously.  
By the time he was done, his body was shaking, and his breathing was labored. Thinking that he was cleanish for now, Saldus sat on his heels in the shallow end of the water and splashed water onto his face.  
One, two, three handfuls of water that he threw into his face, and he was about to do a fourth before he felt something bump into his side. Startled, he looked down and it was then that he decided the gods hate him.  
A school of dead, decaying, half rotted slaughter fish were floating around in the water he just soaked himself in. Saldus felt like he was going to cry, and decided to save the round two of excessive bathing until after he got to an inn.

It wasn't until a month and a half later did Saldus return to Neloth, half remembering what it was exactly that he had been looking for. _Oh wai_ t, Saldus thought, _I never knew in the first place._  
Opening the engraved door and bracing himself for the magical elevator, Saldus inwardly cried. He really did hate this place, or so he told himself. At least his short 'time off', after the job, was enjoyable...  
Saldus smiled, remembering quite vividly the events that had transpired. It was the soft click of his boots on wood as he floated to the top floor that alerted the dunmer.  
"Ah your back! So was it educational?"  
"Well, actually, I had no idea what I was looking for so I just kind of got the whole seed thingy..." Neloth smiled at Saldus, and by all things holy did it scare the living hell out of him.  
"Oh don't worry, I put a memory trace spell on you, so I will see everything you saw." Saldus's jaw dropped.  
"Don't worry! All non related memories will be kept in the strictest of confidences.  
Yes. It was decided. The gods despised him. The one time Saldus decides to check on his guild of assassin's as well as thieves, get totally smashed and sell a goat to a giant, and then, to top it all, seduce Teldryn quite passionately, and Neloth, the one man who he doesn't want to know anything personal about him, gets to see it all firsthand.  
And finally, Saldus truly did break down and cry.


	4. Sweet Dreams

Words: ~1600 somethin' 3 *Once again directly from Wattpad...so srry if the format is crappy* Please Enjoy!~

"You sleep rather soundly, for a murderer."

A gasp, a sputter of breath, followed by coughing and wheezing, as the boy 's pale delicate body shook like the fall leaves, sounded throughout the room. Small, fragile digits grasped out for the dirty sheets and gripped tightly, desperately trying to hold onto reality; his mind slipping into darkness as the cold fingers of death clutched at the boy's soul. His young rounded face, as white as the coming winter snow, contorted into an expression of pain with each inhale, his weak arms trembling as an agonizing fever racked his entire body.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._

The banging on the wall had come from his parents room. The strong, calloused fist of his father rapping against the grubby oak wood separating his room and theirs. Not shortly after, its companion, a muffled almost indistinct shout, followed suite.

"Shut up in there! I'm trying to sleep you damn brat!"

Even still, the boy coughed and gasped, trying and failing to take the most needed air into his lungs. With every passing second, the boy fought what seemed like an interminable struggle against his illness, and as it stood, nature currently had the upper hand. The serene silence that had before filled the night air had scurried away, replaced by the sounds of illness and the muttered curses of the angry devil next door. Lucien knew that his father was coming for him, but no matter how hard he tried, he just could not keep his coughing fit at bay.

 _Crash_

The decrepit door was almost ripped from its hinges as the plank was slammed against the wall, letting loose the animal that it had so poorly held back. The man held up the leather belt, brandishing it high above his head and brought it down forcefully to smack against the boys bare back and atop his fragile skull.

"I said shut up! You deaf or somethin' boy?!" Every word spoken was followed by another three wips. All the while, Lucien chocked on his desperate cries for mercy between his horrid coughing. He would have tried to run, but it was that he was far to weak to dodge his father's attacks, let alone out run a grown man.

So he took the beating, like he did all the others. With every outburst of the man he called father, Lucien was beaten closer and closer to death, but it seemed that fate had another use for him, as all of his prayers to the gods for his death to come already had gone unanswered. And where was his mother? Lucien had grown accustom to her hesitation to step in and save the distraught boy. If she had, she too would have been beaten.

That horrible nightmare of reality was now somewhat of a distant memory. A newer, fresher definition of his childhood life replacing the weak sickly boy from five months prior. His so called 'father' had gotten drunk, ran out of money, and came home to find more coin. Of course, there was none.

He had not been happy.

His mother tried to calm the brute of a man to no avail. When her desperate pleas for the monster not to sell the only clothes they had for alcohol money did not subside, there was a small movement in almost a blink of an eye. Effortless and efficient. _Snap._ And he watched from his hiding spot inside the wall as the last piece of hope he had fell to the floor with a _thump_. Silence.

He could almost hear the blood flowing through his veins. The smashing of his heart against his chest, he feared, was _too_ loud. He was terrified that he would be caught, but he could not tear his eyes from the scene before him, now forever painted in his mind. His mother's pale lifeless body he could see through the horizontal grate covering his pathetic sanctuary, and next to her, not a foot away, his father's boots. His small brown eyes followed up as much of his legs as the wall would allow, and thanked whoever was listening that he could not see his father's face.

"I need another drink." Came a deep gruff voice from above him, and then the hollow wooden clunking of boots as the man stepped carelessly over the dead woman and walk out the door. Minutes passed. All was deathly still.

The timid boy shifted what weight he had into a squat, then slowly unlatched the grate and gently passed it to the side. Standing, Lucien hesitated, staring wildly at the front door. What if his father decided to come back? What if someone walked in and accused Lucien of the murder? However, curiosity had taken him over as he inched closer to the corpse, all previous doubts having been defenestrated as the sickly looking boy crouched down to stare into his mothers dead face, frozen into an expression of what seemed to be suprise. As if she had realized her death before actually passing on in the split second of her neck being broken.

Lucien frowned. He was always told that death was peaceful, so why did his mother look so pained? With a light creasing of the brow, he reached out and closed his mother's eyes, then pulled her lips into a comfortable grin.

Lucien stepped back and, once again, frowned. Her face was peaceful yes, but her position, to Lucien, looked extremely uncomfortable. With a light sigh, Lucien Stepped forward and began to shift the freezing corpse. All the while thinking of how much he felt like an artist as he straightened her head and folded her arms over her chest. It was then that Lucien realized just how beautiful people were. The perfect sort of air about them that would make anyone feel at peace, how sad that their beauty be only shared when dead...  
-

"Lucien, you pathetic excuse of a son! Get in here!" The drunk man slurred his words as he stumbled into the dark house. He had not retuned and the sun had already been gone for hours. All was shrouded in liquid darkness, a lone candle sitting on the table causing the casted shadows to be deeper and darker than normal.

"By the daedra-? what is that smell?" Fumbling about the darkness to get to the candle and bringing the collar of his shirt to his nose, the man swayed his way to the bedroom where the small flame only lit up a portion of the room at a time. Moving the waxy stick from left to right, he searched for Lucien.

"Boy, where'd ya run off to?" Walking over to the neighboring door to the boy's room and using the wall as support, he stumbled into the oak wood and pushed. The hinges cried out into the night as the door swung open slowly. Darkness.

"Lucien ya little- where are ya?" Just like the last, he entered the room and first turned to the right, the candle illuminated the portion of the room where the bed sat. When finding nothing, he slowly turned to the left where he was greeted by the thin back of his ten year old son, clothed in rags. In his hand, a knife.

Fly's buzzed about the chamber, the horrid stench of rot more than strongly emitting from somewhere within the darkness.

"Lucien?" He received no reply and stepped forward, but wished he hadn't as he almost dropped the candle and vomited in his mouth. His former wife was strapped up right in a chair, blood pouring down her face and onto the floor out of her empty, gaping eye sockets. Her lips were sewn shut and her ears were stuffed with bits of her bloody dress that had been ripped off. And right in front of it all, admiring his artwork with an almost insane smirk, was Lucien.

"By all things holy! What did you-"

"She was crying." The quiet voice echoed throughout the room, but the boy's gaze was still fixed on his mother's face.

"She said that your image was burned into her mind, but that she never wanted to see you again." The older man gagged, his heart racing, as he stared unbelieving at his son.

"So I cut out her eyes." The small boy looked at the ground and frowned.

"She never wanted to hear your lies. So I clogged her ears. Never wanted you to break her heart again," Lucien walked toward the mutilated body and pulled back her dress at the chest piece. Underneath, a fist size hole was pouring blood, a few flies seizing the opportunity to land inside and feast.

"So I tore it from her chest, but I grew tired of her complaints. So I sewed her mouth shut." The pale boy looked up at his father from behind dark lashes.

"Then _mothe_ r spoke to me and asked me to do one last thing." And with a sudden dash forward, the small boy plunged the dagger into his fathers heart causing him to shriek in pain and drop the candle. The old wood almost instantly burst into flames, engulfing the house and everything inside, erasing what had been written that night.  
-

A faint creaking of bones echoed throughout the cold dark fort as the sleeping assassin lifted his eyelids slowly and adjusted his eyes to the flickering of a candle. Lucien sat up and looked around his bedchamber. There was Nothing.

Pulling himself up out of bed, Lucien stretched and quickly threw on his black robes, only faintly remembering this atmosphere. The flowing darkness, the candle, the smell of death...

 _N_ o, Lucien thought.

"Just a dream."

-  
I don't know what it is with Lucien but he is just so easy to write about...I love him though and I think this was supposed to be longer but I'm tired. It's like 6:47 am. -.- I need something with Vicente too... Gah!

So, what to write next?...

Huh? Why that's a great idea! Although...I didn't quite hear it...

Hey write it in a comments! Maybe I'll write it sometime?


	5. Follower of His Heart

Words~792 Warning: Slight slash :) (last one from my Wattpad? Who knows...)  
-

"Another day, another adventure!" An all to chipy voice ravaged my ear drums, and aroused me from my slumber. A single ray of sunlight passed through the curtain and kissed my check softly.  
 _What time is it?_  
"Erhmp..."  
That's what I was aiming to say anyway. I cracked open a single eyelid. My strange, somewhat eccentric, current employer loomed over my bedside with a horrifying grin on his face. Sometimes his happiness really did upset me...  
"Come along now, Marcurio! We shall be off while the day is still young!" This stupidly silly, moron of a Dragon born was, sadly, the only person I could truly call friend. His name, is Saldus Feran. Despite his ridiculous stature, he is rather intelligent and rather quite dashing. All of the ladies seem to love him.  
"What the hell are you waking me up this early in the morning for?!" I clutched my head in my hands suddenly feeling an unavoidable, idiot induced migraine coming on. I could almost feel the grin of his eyes scan over me as I wallowed in self pity.  
"I'm bored." From beneath my hair, I could hear the altmer let out a pitiful little _hump_ f as if he were cursing the very idea that was boredom. I felt the weight of the small cot shift as Saldus sat down next to me.  
"Hey, Marcurio?" His voice was quiet and by the sound of it, he seemed to be leaning close to my ear. An awkward silence filled the room and loomed over me, so I stayed hidden behind my hands. I could feel my face begin to grow hotter, but I hadn't the slightest idea why.  
"Y-yeah?" _Damn._ _Why do I feel so nervous?_  
"Marcurio..." I could hear my heart start to beat furiously within its constraint, and I felt irritatingly breathless. _What is this feeling?_  
"Will you go out with me?"

 _What._

Suddenly I understood everything. The reasons why Saldus kept me around. The reasons for why the Dragonborn wasn't yet married even though there were many young beautiful women that would kill to lay eyes on him. It was because he, he-

 _Likes other men?!_

"W-what the hell?!" By now, I was almost positive that my face was blood red. I could feel my embarrassment flood through my veins, and the sudden confusion of being hit on by another man wasn't helping.  
 _Who does that all of a sudden?!_  
"Of course I won't _go ou_ t with you! We're both _me_ n if you haven't realized! What is your problem!?" I couldn't quite help but stare down at my hands in my lap. I couldn't find the courage to look him in the eyes, afraid of what I would find there. Anger? Despair? Hatred? Was I maybe too harsh?  
"M-marcurio..." Even as much as I wanted to, it was too late to take it back. Will he hate me now? Will he no llonger be my friend?  
"I thought that you knew..."  
How could I be so cruel? What do I mean what is wrong with him? What is wrong with _me?_  
"I'm so sorry!" It just came out suddenly as if on its own.  
"That was very insensitive of me...I am unworthy of being even your _packmul_ e let alone, your friend." I could feel a stinging in my eyes as tears slowly began to run down my face. _Since when I have become so low? Insulting my only friend? I'm pathetic._  
"Uh...Marcurio. When I said _go ou_ t with me, I didn't mean like in a relationship...I meant like out. To town..."  
"I don't know how you can even stand to look at me! I'm such a-"

 _What?_

I turned wide eyed and stared at him. Saldus had a grin as wide as the width of his face, and I couldn't help but smile myself.  
"Haha oh well...I knew that..ha.." _By the Gods this is so embarrassing!_  
"Sorry. You must think me rude, what with assuming you're homosexual, and then shouting at you like that...haha." Suddenly I felt rather fidgety, anxious, and...disappointed?  
Saldus just sat there, grinning at me. Looking at me with those perfect blue eyes of his.  
 _Why? Why do I feel this way?_  
"I never said that I wasn't." And the next thing I knew, his warm lips were on mine.

-  
Sorry, I haven't updated in a long, long time. (Blame it on Junjou Romantica and Black Butler XD) I have been terribly _bus_ y...ha..haha...ha  
Well, I'll try not to do it again, but I did have terrible writers block so I didn't want to force out something crappy. And as an afterthought, none of this is checked or edited. *andhalfthetimeIdon'treaditovermyself*...what...enjoy please and thanks!~


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